Goodbye Delhi ……….

The grandeur of Sarkari Delhi : View From Rajpath

I thought I was lucky to find a parking spot outside the small supermarket in my sector. Well, at least something was going right on that hot and humid Saturday morning. After about 30 minutes ,  I happily finished my shopping  and came out of the store only to find a  rather well-used car parked outside the parking slot ,  blocking my car . I was irritated but thought that may be the driver will be somewhere nearby. But no, the car was locked and there was no sign of the driver. I went inside the store and got the car number announced- several times. Finally after 15 long minutes, a 40 something gentleman wearing half pants and chappals ( Thinking he looks cool) emerged out of the store  . When he saw he has actually blocked car of a woman driver, he seemed rather pleased at his doing .( For those of you who don’t know, many such alpha males of Delhi  think that women drivers are some inferior species and can always be blamed for any mistake . These macho males kind of own the road, parking and well, the city)  In his Haryanvi accent English ( And yes, he has to converse in English) , he started yelling at me for making him hurry up with his shopping. When I pointed that his car was parked incorrectly, he shouted (again in English) “So what? I too have suffered many times and listen, if you start arguing , I will not take the car out.” At this stage a security guard  intervened and asked him to take his car out. Guess what ! Our hero shouted back at the guard (this time in Hindi ) “ Beech mein mat bol Saale . Mujhe pata hai kya karna hai.” Finally after creating a scene and telling all gathered  his tale of  parking woes , he removed his car and allowed me to take out my legally parked car . I won’t be surprised if he was expecting a “Thank you .So very kind of you” from me.  This, and many such incidents in last 6 years, make me feel happy that it is time to say goodbye to Delhi.

Six years is a long time to know a city …to fall in love with it …to start hating it…for getting used to it. I came to Delhi full of apprehensions. Most of which turn out to be true. My discomfort  with Delhi- way of living  never went away and despite its many comforts and advantages , Delhi remain an odd city for me. In fact after living here I realized that it is no more one city. It is a strange amalgamation of many  cities, kasbahs and villages  . Perfectly cosmopolitan in some parts and equally rural and crude in most others- sometimes it looks like a city full  of old-world character and at others totally bereft of it .  In fact there were times when I wondered where is the Delhi about which  Meer had  said –

कूचे न थे देहली के अवराक़े मुसव्विर थे

जो शक्ल नज़र आई तस्वीर नज़र आई।

( Delhi’s streets were not alleys but parchment of a painting, Every face that appeared seemed like a masterpiece).

All I found was people bloated with ego, intoxicated in money and muscle power and streets full of problems for common citizens. And yet, I survived. I think one big reason why I survived the city and its people,  is that I stayed outside its typical circles- stubbornly  unsocial and aloof . I interacted with people at work and outside only on need-to-interact basis and made very few friends here. In fact, now that I count, most of my friends, including those whom I met in Delhi were not Dilliwallahs,  at least not the typical ones.

However, I would be missing the purpose of this post, if I fail to recount that in last six year s, there were also many many moments when I was glad to be here.  I got some fantastic work assignments here, met some extraordinary people outside work and participated in some wonderful activities. I also saw some extraordinary things happening in front of my eyes- the civil protest at India Gate, the breaking of scams and its aftermath, the ugly scenes of unashamed arrogant power , wealth and corruption and the impressive struggle of  few people who wanted to change the system.

 But the thing about memories is that they never get the ‘big picture’ . They are very subjective, personal …almost irrational . They do not honour the perceived importance of events and people in any particular way.  I wonder what I will remember of this Delhi tenure 10 years from now ?  Here is the tentative list of memories I can think of right now:

·         I will think of Delhi trees of different seasons. I will miss gawking from the car window and admiring the trees, specially in Lutyens’ Delhi . How just before Diwali , Saptaparni blooms  with its exotic fragrance and how the spring is announced with numerous Semal trees lining the Delhi streets . Even in the summer months, the bright happy  yellow Amaltas and  red Gulmohar trees made my heart dance with joy.  Even  tedious office work was somewhat bearable after sighting these on my way .

·         I will remember my favorite hideouts – National Gallery of Modern Arts and  National Museum . They may not be in the best of conditions but still, they are an unparallel treasure trove.   I wish I get to see them many more times . The memory of plays watched at National School of Drama will stay with me for long . I was mesmerized to meet Banbhatta on NSD stage (in Banbhatta Ki AtmaKatha ) and learnt so much about theatre from Indian and foreign plays performed here .

·         I think I will think about the names of the streets and my (mostly failed) attempts to remember them. The strange landmarks of places which I built in my mind- the lone statue of Alexander Pushkin outside Sahitya Academy Building or the magnificent statue of Gandhiji outside  Parliament house  .

·         I will also miss my visits to well known, less known and not-known-at-all monuments of Delhi. I thank my stars that I got to see these fascinating places as part of my job. While it fills me with rage that Red fort is in such pathetic condition, thank God, we also have Humayun’s tomb – just restored to its glory. The turquoise blue glazed tiles of this Mughal tomb filled my heart with such bliss when I first saw them after restoration.

·       

  I know it sounds lame, but I will definitely miss and remember my  Delhi office and my  NOIDA home . I still dream of all my previous homes and I know I lived a blessed life in my present one too. My office – the place where perhaps I spent most of my waking hours will remain etched in my memory for long. It was actually fun to work so close to the power centre of bureaucracy .

           Whatever reservations I have bout Dilliwalahs , the fact is that it was only with the kindness and generosity of many ordinary Dilliwallahs at my workplace that I survived. Ajay- my loyal man Friday,  who successfully found solutions to all my big-small problems with amazing efficiency; Ashish and Sanjeev, my drivers, who somehow found ways in the lanes of Delhi for their direction challenged madam going in search of one German Bakery and one unknown grave – God,  I am definitely going to miss  them . The colleagues I worked with and bosses who tolerated me, many of whom I hope to cross ways again, floored me with their kindness . 

There are still so many things, sights, places and people  to remember…….. driving  to Italian Embassy for  the Italian course relishing the sights of diplomatic Delhi , shopping in Connaught Place,  the India Gate circle  , the official meetings at numerous stately buildings of Government of India  and  yes, the white pigeon who regularly visited my office window ( mostly to eat the daana  left by Ajay) . Well, to quote Meer once again, I have to agree :   

दिल व दिल्ली दोनो अगर है खराब;

पा कुछ लुत्फ उस उजड़े घर में भी हैं!

(Both heart and Delhi may have been worn out, But some little pleasures still remain in this ruined house).

But in the end, I am glad it is time to say goodbye to this mad mad city . I know life might bring me back in these corridors, but as of now, I go out of Delhi with a relieved look of sanity on my face. Just can’t wait to find the new chapter of life unfolding at yet another fascinating and awe-inspiring city- Mumbai . The adventure of life , after all, exists in those spaces between the known and the expected- in the unexpected and the unknown. 

Unwritten Rules for the Written Word

“Writers more interested in literature than the truth ensure that they never come out with either thing — one reason that the word literature today sounds so fake, as if you were to insist on saying cuisine every time you meant food. Food, as in sustenance, is more like what we have in mind.” 
                                                                              ― The editors n+1

A question has often crossed my mind that why these days we have so many Indians switching to writing in English and why there are so few books good books in Hindi and other Indian languages. My mother who is an avid reader of Hindi books often finds it difficult to find anything interesting in newly published books. Even when some new titles appear in library/ bookshops, they are difficult to read . Mostly due to their atrocious language which is a strange mix of English  words mixed with Hindi and often the slang of the two languages. The grammar is deliberately wrong and the themes are often repetitive. Even internet blogs are more lively and readable than the published books sometimes .

Today in a chance meeting with one Editor in Charge of Contemporary Indian Literature at India’s apex society of letters, I found answers to most of my doubts. My expectations from the person occupying such a respected post was of someone who’d love books and words making up those books. Someone who would be open to all expressions and styles and most of all someone who’d be learned enough to be open, unbiased and objective. What I found gave me ample proof of why even the most passionate Hindi lovers are today reading very few Hindi books. It also made to thank God that I am not a writer/ poet aspiring to be published or reviewed by these hollowed men.

I had always heard stories of writers who were rejected repeatedly by the publishers only to become world famous later on. One also hears of artists who were rated hopeless by critics  just before they shoot to fame and stardom.   Today I witnessed to my horror how a critic forces his own myopic view on a budding poet. Sitting in his cosy office , surrounded by the publications of his revered organisation, he vaguely looked at the crisp new  book and then shot a glance back to the newly published poet .  He read the biodata of the poet, determined within  seconds that she is in an outsider in the world of literature.( i.e.  not a full time writer cum academician  but  a successful professional  ) . He nodded his head disapprovingly and then the poet was told in harshest possible words that her choice of words, title of the book, themes of the poems and even the design of the cover is “incorrect”. The reason given was shocking – Today’s public does not want such words/ titles anymore. These were “in” some 40 years back. Who would read such (correct and pure) language anymore? These themes are also old. They do not sell anymore.

 Interesting part was that the learned man formed this opinion in just 4 minutes of looking at the book and without even reading one of the poems. When the poet protested that was this not suppose to be her expression....her words ....her language. She was told  that she has no chance of being established here if she thinks like this. Everything from the theme to the style should be carefully chosen based on the trend these days. He then arrogantly told the poor girl that she must read the journals and publications of his organisation to realise what kind of stuff is in demand these days and then try writing like that.  I was feeling bad for the poor writer till I found, to my horror , that the esteemed editor cum critic was criticising Tagore’s Geetanjali  as well on the same grounds saying that it won’t stand in today’s market . I was taken aback because this was not a profit minded publisher speaking but a critic associated with the society which is meant to “Promote and protect literature of Indian Languages”. Leave alone any encouragement to go different, there was a clear message- my way or highway.

When I asked this gentleman about writing for one’s own satisfaction ( Swantah Sukhaya)  without consideration of “market demand”; he almost got angry. “What a naive question? Who does that anyway? If anyone wants they can keep writing sitting quietly but our publications would never review such works. We have some standard to keep. People have expectations from us and we cannot publish about something which is not graded high on these established  benchmarks”.  So that is the new mantra- books as a consumer good. To be manufactured as per the demands of the customers . 

 Curious by his response, I decided to peep in the bookshop of this organisation, to browse through the latest trends in literature. I am now very certain to say that no Bacchchan or Ajneya , no Jaishakar Prasad or Sumitra Nandan Pant can today find place in these hallowed galleries of literature . They are now an exclusive domain of people who do not understand pure language, do not risk to go original in style or themes and worst of all, who are in the   ‘exclusive literature circuit’. The unwritten banner screams “Outsiders are not welcome” loud and clear. The experimentation with language is acceptable only if it is ‘approved kind of experimentation’ by the high priests of literature, all other variations are   ‘wrong’.  Good for these classic poets and writers that they become famous before such patrons of literature occupied these positions and framed their rules of good literature.

 Thankfully we are in an age where information seeps through the walls topped by barbed wire and it wafts across the electrified borders...thankfully it also goes beyond the domains of such Mullahs and Pundits of  literature. No wonder that many  young writers either move towards English as language of expression  , opt for more  entry barrier free mediums like internet publishing  or give up the hope of being read by people who’d have admired their words.

Officially Anti Social

In one of my school textbooks many years ago, I came across the bold declaration: “Man is a social animal.” I have since carried strong objections to this seemingly innocent five-word sentence.

First, why “animal”? Could we not have gone with something a bit more... flattering? Second, what about women? Why are we left out of this zoological generalization? And third—and most important—I categorically disagree with this sweeping statement. Not all men (or women, or anyone else on the spectrum) are inherently social. I, for one, am a proud, card-carrying member of the “Anti-Socials Anonymous.” Social gatherings make me feel like a misplaced comma in a perfectly punctuated paragraph.

And I do not understand why this very simple fact is so hard for others to get. Perhaps we should blame the school system for brainwashing us into believing that humans must enjoy mingling. That all of us must laugh heartily in groups, attend brunches with joy, and make sparkling small talk as if our lives depend on it. News flash: some of us would rather read a tax manual than go to a tea party.

I’ve already confessed on this blog how weddings make me feel like I’ve walked into a parallel universe. But allow me to extend my rant to office events. I dread those “innocent” little invitations in my office email—those lunch and dinner get-togethers that come cloaked in politeness but smell suspiciously like social pressure. Let me tell you: the least understood and most unfairly judged group in any organization is the introverts who dislike socializing. We don’t make trouble, we don't gossip, we just want to be left alone. Yet, paradoxically, we’re seen as threats. Why? Because we don’t want to discuss our boss’s dog over badly catered food?

In smaller postings, life was blissfully quiet. Socializing with colleagues was limited to brief nods and strategically timed tea breaks. But then I moved to Delhi—and suddenly entered a world where everything is a networking opportunity. Here, socializing is not just encouraged, it’s practically an obligation. Official lunches, dinners, tea meets, Diwali Milan, Holi get-togethers, New Year high teas—you name it, Delhi’s babudom celebrates it. And heaven forbid you miss any of them.

To make things worse, they notice if you’re absent. Apparently, attending such events is part of being a “team player.” So now, I find myself having to manufacture excuses—mysterious illnesses, sudden house guests, imaginary urgent meetings—just to skip an evening of awkward small talk and soggy samosas. How many times can one claim their spouse has "just tested mildly positive"? Even my excuses have started sounding antisocial.

And then, about a month ago, things escalated.

The Big Boss, clearly perturbed by falling attendance at socials, made an announcement in a meeting. He didn’t name names, but he did look pointedly in my direction while issuing a mild fatwa against "childish" no-shows. According to him, we antisocial types are simply lazy. We fail to appreciate the bonding opportunities that come with forced mingling. The implication was clear: social gatherings are now part of Key Performance Indicators.

How do I explain to people that I don’t want to share meals and small talk with colleagues and bosses? That I feel like a fraud in these settings, trying hard to smile while my soul shrivels slowly in the background music? That I genuinely have no interest in knowing whether Mr. Sharma’s new hobby is collecting bonsai or whether Madam Boss prefers Pinot Grigio over Merlot?

Honestly, I try to listen. I really do. But after the third anecdote about someone’s “glorious posting in 1997,” my brain just files everything under blah. And don’t even get me started on the music—so loud it could resuscitate the dead, but definitely not conversations.

Still, there’s some amusement to be found. As an unwilling but observant attendee, I’ve managed to classify the usual characters who populate these sarkari soirees. Behold, the five recurring themes of every official social event:

1. The Wardrobe Warriors

They treat every event as Lakmé Fashion Week minus the cameras. Women flaunt their finest sarees, pearls, and handbags; their compliments fly faster than buffet spoons. Recently, some men have joined this glittering tribe, proudly rocking purple scarves and pastel pink sweaters. Equality in accessorizing, finally!

2. The ‘I’-Specialists (aka The Ophthalmologists)

These are the ones with “I am amazing” written across their foreheads in invisible ink. At work, at play, in war, and in love—they are always the hero. They dominate conversations with tales of legendary office feats, aesthetic adventures, and how the Cabinet Secretary once nodded appreciatively at their PowerPoint. You’re expected to listen reverently, and maybe take notes.

3. The Foodies & Boozies

This group knows what they came for: free food and subsidized drinks. They grin dutifully at the bosses, perform the necessary rounds, then disappear into a corner with plate and glass in hand. Except for their initial gossiping warm-up, they’re actually a focused and harmless lot—until the drinks start talking.

4. The Network Ninjas

They are on a Mission—with a capital M. Their sole aim: to be seen, heard, and remembered. Loud greetings, excessive laughter, forced cheer—they play semi-host, invite people to dance, and might even volunteer to clear tables. Subtlety is not their strong suit, but watching them in action is the only perk of such events.

5. The Loners (a.k.a. Us)

This rare and endangered group prefers corners, quiet, and phones. We often look confused or distracted, peering into our glasses like they hold existential truths. We’re the first to arrive (for lack of excuses) and first to leave (for sanity). Sometimes, we call home midway just to fake a rescue operation.

                                        

Just yesterday, still dazed from my birthday-and-New-Year double whammy, I accidentally on purpose missed two official socials. I didn’t even bother with an excuse. But of course, today I got an earful. I know more reprimands are coming, which means I’ll have to be extra visible at the next gathering to compensate—grinning like a Cheshire cat while counting every soul-crushing minute.

So until the world learns to accept that “not all animals are social,” I see no escape. It's going to be more dull evenings, hollow pleasantries, unappetizing hors d'oeuvres, and conversations that make you question your life choices.

Pathetic, isn’t it?

And just to clarify—if you spot someone standing alone near the lemonade, staring into their plate like it holds the meaning of life—please do not come and say hi. If we wanted company, we’d be out there socialising, wearing sequins and enthusiasm. We are not lonely. We are just biding our time till we can quietly slink out, go home, and finally breathe in peace.

Now, if you’ll excuse me—I need to invent a mildly convincing excuse for the next party.

What if the Mayans were right?

Have you heard about the World ending on December 21, 2012 as per the Mayan Prophecy? Chances are that you have. For the last few months and specially after the movie 2012, there have been a lot of discussions on the 2012 phenomenon which the Mayan calendar (or its modern interpretation ) holds.

The 2012 phenomenon comprises a range of viewpoints according to which disastrous or transformative events will occur on December 21, 2012. To some, this date is regarded as the end-date of a 5,125-year-long cycle in the Meso-american Long Count calendar. Various astronomical alignments and numerological formulae related to this date have been proposed. Another interpretation of this transition is that this date marks the start of time in which Earth and its inhabitants may undergo a positive physical or spiritual transformation, and that 2012 may mark the beginning of a new era. Others suggest that the 2012 date marks the end of the world or a similar catastrophe. Scenarios suggested for the end of the world include the arrival of the next solar maximum, or Earth's collision with a passing asteroid or a planet called "Nibiru". It will definitely remain a subject of curiosity and debate what Mayans meant by the “end” of the calendar. Whatever little I know of that civilisation, it seems unlikely that such optimistic and scientific civilisation was actually thinking of an end as –THE END. But one would not know till the date arrives (and hopefully passes on).

But reading about this, and generally joking on this phenomenon, made me think. We all have heard the famous saying -

“Dance as if no one were watching, Sing as if no one were listening, and live every day as if it were your last”

But few of us are able to live lives like that.

There have been many imaginary takes on the last part of the saying “ ....live every day as if it were your last.” I know at least half a dozen movies, plays and books where one central character (mistakenly) gets the impression that he is going to die in a day/ month / few months and that has a comical and dramatic change in the way he lives. People also attempt to list out things they would like to do before they die....but what would you do if you know the end is fixed and you know about it. Just as an experiment, let us imagine that your life is going to end tomorrow night. You have 24 hours to live. How would you live? Would you wait for the hour to approach with fear and panic or you would be calm and cool about it. May be you’d like to have your last party with friends. May be you’d like to spend all the money lying in your bank account? Depending on your personality type- this can be a funny, curious or sickening thought.

I for sure know I would not care about the “important” and “urgent” things on my work table. I would also ignore the decorum and conduct becoming of an officer. I would rather go out and enjoy the pale sunshine of winter. Observe people passing by. Eat what I love to eat (read fattening and more fattening dishes) and go and meet the people for whom I care (but usually forget to call/meet). Come to think of it, I may also give a piece of my mind to few and give unsolicited advice to few others. Write mails to all my crushes and write a will for my huge collection of comic books. Laze around at home and may be sitting pretty updating my Facebook status (through my newly acquired android phone), when the time comes.

Then I extended the experiment and started imagining how others would react to such a situation. Hubby dear (being rational and proud of it!) would definitely discard such nonsensical prophecy, but somehow, if brought to believe, would rush to make his essential phone calls (LOL!). Mom may even worry about the remaining food in the fridge and a particular colleague would pay last visits to the big bosses in HQ. A friend in media will give 6 new ideas how to cover the event of the Doomsday and my walking partner would be depressed to know that after so much efforts to lose the Kilos she won’t live to fit in that new dress. My dear brother-in law will jump to catch his last nap and another girl I know would be “really sorry” that the world is ending and she can’t stop it. The list can go on. The experiment cheered me up endlessly on this winter morning.

But on a serious note, I know at the end of the day my thoughts would be somewhat echoing the sentiments expressed in John Denver’s famous song “Poems, Prayers and Promises”.

“And I have to say it now, It’s been a good life all in all

It's really fine to have a chance to hang around

And lie there by the fire and watch the evening tire

..........And talk of poems and prayers and promises

And things that we believe in .

How sweet it is to love someone, how right it is to care!

How long it's been since yesterday, and what about tomorrow?

And what about our dreams and all the memories we share

The days they pass so quickly now...Nights are seldom long

And time around me whispers when it's cold

The changes somehow frighten me still I have to smile

It turns me on to think of growing old, for though my life's been good to me

There's still so much to do"

(listen to the full song here .)

NB: Whether or not the Mayans calculated it right – we definitely have another New Year to welcome tomorrow. Wish all of you the very best of 2012 ....with or without the doomsday. 

Country on Celebrity “Fast” track

It was with great interest that I read my hubby’s post about two much known fasts from Indian History. Fasting for protest- it is a curious subject. It has both funny and tragic sides to it. Yes, fasts are the “in” thing these days. But come to think of it – when were they out of fashion anyways? As it happens, we only notice the celebrity fasts while there may be many other more real fasts on protest happening around us, which go unnoticed. Let me recount- you fought with your spouse and the dinner went untouched that day. Next day, there is a high probability that the demands of the aggrieved side would be acceded to. . The teenagers too very often use the fast-way to get their demands from pocket money to piercing and from that “awesome” new dress to the latest gadget their best friend has purchased . Not only that, now a days the teenagers of both sexes are almost always fasting to remain in shape. Then we have workaholics like I know one Miss R, who would willingly skip a meal or two to complete the work at hand. That the work at hand can be postponed in favour of a lunch break would never occur to such selfless souls. They after all, consider even the most routine work as a step towards world peace and nation building.

Incidentally, I also have an aunt who wears her vegetarianism on her sleeve. I mean, even I am a very proud vegetarian, but this aunt would happily skip a meal in a party claiming to be on “fast” if she has slightest of doubts that the food may have been contaminated by non vegetarian food. I respect the sentiment and cannot count how many of her friends and colleagues have turned their party food “100% veg” to ensure that she doesn’t go empty stomach. So here it is. We as a nation believe in getting our way by threatening to go on fast. We do it with our spouses, with our parents and even our friends. It is , therefore, very understandable why Gandhi, Jatin Das, Jaiprakash Narain or very recently Anna Hazare thought of it as a political tool of protest .

But as I said earlier, only the celebrity fasts are noticed. A very well known Indian trait is that we love melodrama – not only in our politics and society, films and family life but also in our religion and work. Sans that we do not care who is eating and who is not. In most cases we do not even bother for the issue a protestor is trying to raise. We just follow the drama part. It was therefore, not hard to believe why one of the most heart wrenching fast was so easily forgotten by us. On 2 November 2010, Ms. Irom Sharmila Chanu, a Manipuri girl, completed ten years of hunger strike demanding the repeal of the Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act, 1958 (AFSPA). That is a story of a human life wasted.

Last time I heard she was lying in a Government Hospital and was being force fed by nose. A torturous procedure, which keeps her alive for last many years . I understand that most of her vital organs have been wasted by this decade long hunger strike and it seems that our country has decided to let her go on her protest without even considering her demands. I won’t be surprised if most of the people who joined Anna Hazare or Baba Ramdev have not even heard of Sharmila. I can’t recall when any of our politicians tried to contact her. They are probably too busy in receiving the charlatan Babas on airports and bugging each other’s rooms. No filmstars visit her, no young professionals or activist groups try to listen what she is trying to say through her protest. In and out of jails for the past 11 years, Manipur's 'Iron Lady' Sharmila has a tube running down her nose as the government alternately force feeds her and incarcerates her for attempting to take her own life through her hunger strike. We have very conveniently decided to forget her as a Government liability - uncomfortable, but manageable nuisance. I do not judge whether one protest is greater than the other but can say with some confidence that in most cases people who support or oppose such protests have nothing much to do with the issues in question. They join sides on considerations like political parties, region, religion, vote bank, hero worship and publicity. In the long run that is the tragic side of these “fasts”. We remember the personalities, garland them, give them awards but forget the issues.

On second thoughts, there is one more side of celebrity fasts. I mean other than the funny and the tragic sides. It adds a new flavour to our daily entertainment....er...news. I won’t be exaggerating, if I say that this Fast-track at least bring back viewers to TV, gives magazine stories to write about, geeks to form support forums online and ordinary men and women to gossip about . No wonder, everybody loves a celebrity fast!

A Pause

Louis MacNeice was an irish poet, a contemporary of W.H. Auden . I reproduce a poem written by him here as it gives me strength on those desparate moments when I feel that a cyclone of "life" is sucking me in its vortex.It helps me in realising that at the other side of all the despair, frustration and failures ....life remains our only chance to redeem ourselves, to purify ourselves and to cleanse ourselves of our weaknesses. And we live this life with all our disappointments and despair, yet not lose our innate faith on ourselves. Every misfortune only makes us stronger, every grief steels our heart ever more and every battle we lose makes us more determined.

     The cynic would say that in the course of our journey, we only move from one frustration to another, from one despair to another, from one pain to another, from one sorrow to another, from one disappointment to another, from one hopelessness to another. Only for some fleeting moments, we are allowed to be happy – “Happiness” as Thomas Hardy said, after all “is an occasional episode in the general drama of pain”. But that does not mean that we take our frustrations and despair and disappointments for granted and resign ourselves to our fate, knowing fully well that

“Alike for those who for today prepare,
 and for those who after a tomorrow stare
A Muezzim cries from the tower of darkness
 Fools, your reward is neither here nor there.”


No, the strength and determination are certainly not for any imaginary victory over an imaginary foe, not even against ourselves. It is only to realise that despite everything, just to be living is an wonderful experience. So here I begin once again, heartbroken after one more disappointment...full of hope for the next assignment ; praying that they do not turn me into a stone....ever.

PRAYER BEFORE BIRTH by Louis MacNeice

" I am not yet born; O hear me.

Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the
club-footed ghoul come near me.

I am not yet born, console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.

I am not yet born; provide me
With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, trees to talk
to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white light
in the back of my mind to guide me.

I am not yet born; forgive me
For the sins that in me the world shall commit, my words
when they speak me, my thoughts when they think me,
my treason engendered by traitors beyond me,
my life when they murder by means of my
hands, my death when they live me.

I am not yet born; rehearse me
In the parts I must play and the cues I must take when
old men lecture me, bureaucrats hector me, mountains
frown at me, lovers laugh at me, the white
waves call me to folly and the desert calls
me to doom and the beggar refuses
my gift and my children curse me.

I am not yet born; O hear me,
Let not the man who is beast or who thinks he is God
come near me.

I am not yet born; O fill me
With strength against those who would freeze my
humanity, would dragoon me into a lethal automaton,
would make me a cog in a machine, a thing with
one face, a thing, and against all those
who would dissipate my entirety, would
blow me like thistledown hither and
thither or hither and thither
like water held in the
hands would spill me.
Let them not make me a stone and let them not spill me.


Otherwise kill me."

 

Where words come out from the depth of truth!

“Privacy is for individuals, the governments try and use secrecy sometimes for legitimate reasons, sometimes for legitimate period of time and most often, for illegitimate reasons. The problem with secrecy is that how do you know it is not be abused.”

Julian Assange (EnC of Wikileaks ) in an interview to The Hindu

Mr. Assange is my latest hero. I have always been a great admirer of Google and its two founders because they showed the way for free flow of information, information about anyone and anything available to everyone. Even the thought is so liberating. I know it is clichéd to say that Information is power, but I also know that it is very true. Free flow of information – availability of it in public domain is however not easy to ensure. Of course, at times it leads to disasters – personal, professional, political and even global; but still the power of information came flooding us with Google. At least it opened the world before frogs-in-the pond like me. Almost everything you want to learn/know/check is just a click away. Good, bad and ugly- world at its naked best is in front of us….but then there is a catch. Google’s world is the cyber world and there was still a big bad world of non-cyber nature which was behind the curtain. An iron curtain one should say. There was hardly any way a commoner can peek behind the curtain. In most countries there are legislations, privileges, rules ensuring “official secrecy”.

There is usually miniscule information in the public domain on political decision making, diplomatic push and pull and the way destinies are written for millions of us. Some years back India adopted a Right to Information law. The idea was to make the governance transparent. All public offices are now open for the common man. This however, happened only in letter, the intent part has been missing badly. The law is today more abused than used. In every public office bureaucrats consider it a big victory if by quoting some or the other clause, or by some clever word play they can refuse the information being asked or at least maintain some level of ambiguity. People are taught to write notes and opinions in a way that it cannot be “caught under RTI”. How very often, my flustered subordinates would complain that I am not being a true “PIO” (Public Information Officer) as I am always in favor of giving all information. Somehow in the Government, we love to conceal information, even if there is nothing wrong in our papers. Let alone RTI, official try their level best to deny and delay documents and information to even statutory audit. Giving information to the clients (common public) in public offices is a taboo. Even giving acknowledgement of papers/application received is often grudged. I guess in our hearts we know that we may not be doing the right thing right way and also, we do not mind the wrong way to ensure never getting caught. The fear applies to politicians, businessmen and diplomats too.

The way Mr. Assange and his organization have opened the floodgate for this concealed information that may be illegal in some countries but surely unstoppable. Of course the Governments of the world are reacting in a very predictable way – therefore, attempts at personal defamation, arrest warrants and discrediting the information. Recently on a couple of occasions our top leaders were found “lying “ publicly and when caught, quoting the technical and legal details tried to get away. First the Radia tapes, then CVC appointment controversy, then ISRO-Devas deal and now the wikileaks. Times are tough for the people who were safely hidden behind the iron curtain. As usual, in my weekly phone call I discussed the issue of Mr. Thomas’s appointment as CVC with my grand Uncle and we got into very philosophical mood. He, as usual told me tales of his times. The stories reach to the core of concept of justice and fair play, so I am tempted to re-tell them here. In British India, an aggrieved employee filed a case against his office (i.e. the crown). In the court he gave details of a file which if produced before court would prove his point. The office was asked to produce the file. A newly recruited babu put up a note to the head of his office urging him to use the privilege of the Crown and not to give that file as in all likelihood- government would lose the case, if the file is given. The head, a seasoned British bureaucrat, replied that the file may be produced before the court immediately. He added that the purpose of having courts is to correct the wrongdoing and dispense justice and if the Government is wrong, it must lose the case. There was of course no “right to information” in those days and if the privilege of the crown was claimed, even the court could not get the information. The employee won the case against the Government in the next hearing. Of course, we do not believe in things like justice, fair play and honesty in those puritan ways any longer. Very recently, one of country’s highest public offices did everything from pressurizing to lying to deny information asked by a scrutinizing agency. I watch such happenings every other day and they no longer shock us. But then there are exceptions, in one of his previous offices my husband had a subordinate who was a proven trouble maker. He had messed up his personal and professional life and was generally disliked by everybody. As head of that office, hubby had his share of problems with this person and was not at all sympathetic when he heard that this person had won a court case against the Government. The case was related to his promotion which this person felt was wrongly denied to him. It was a complicated case and hubby along with most others in the office felt that the government should appeal against the verdict. His arguments went for vetting at his HQ. Except for his Director (Admn) everyone was for appeal even in the headquarters. So the Director - convinced that justice demands this trouble maker should be promoted – referred it for legal opinion. Office lawyer said they should appeal. Next it was sent to the Ministry, they also felt the government should appeal. Undeterred Director decided to refer the case to Ministry of Law. My hubby was flustered with this sympathy. He narrated in detail about the conduct of this person and how he has created many embarrassments for the office. The HQ senior was unperturbed, his argument was that the person’s conduct otherwise should not affect his case and even a troublemaker, deserves justice. The Ministry of Law opined in favour of the petitioner and the case was dropped by the Government. I often ask the question, how I would have behaved if I was in place of his senior. Would I have allowed my opinion to be coloured by the employee’s behavior? Can I see justice is such pure terms?

I do not know the answer. But every time I get an RTI petition, even if I know that the person is seeking the information to defame the Government, to settle some petty score or creating trouble, I find it difficult to refuse or delay. I cannot take abuse of a law as an excuse for denying use of it. Think about it – how good it feels if you know you are being treated fairly. How satisfactory one feels if one knows that he got his due. Then why do we want to keep the public information private – hiding it from the very people it is meant for.

My Gypsy streaks in the Concrete City

How do you survive a city where everyone is hell-bent on buying a house but you are not interested?…Where friends greet you with an offer to form a housing cooperative more frequently than they comment on your new dress?…Where the most practiced form of romantic outing is searching for a perfect flat to buy in the suburbs? Delhi is a real estate crazy city. Here people love to talk, walk, and eat buying and selling of properties. However unreal it may sound to everybody else, I fail to appreciate the point.

For almost all my life I loved travelling, specially by road. Reading road signs, posters, and hoardings is almost a habit with me. But nowadays while travelling to work or in and around Delhi, I usually avoid looking at hoardings. In this strange place called NCR, you find only two kinds of hoardings-

1. Unknown political wannabes wishing you Eid/Holi and New year (or even worse, the birthdays of their almost-in-grave leaders) or

2. Real -esatewallas advertising for some new housing project promising you a Jannat on earth

“Elegant and stylish living!” “Cosmo living – just a few minutes from city centre” “Give your family an exotic lifestyle” “ A house you’d like to boast” and so on…. I dread these ads for housing projects like plague. In Delhi alas, there is no way you can escape them. A polite conversation in Delhi starts with “Did you hear about that housing project coming up….” or “You know that XYZ builders are selling flats like hotcakes?” It seems even in this scam and pollution filled capital city, people no longer talk about politics and weather. I am sure with my colleagues; Japan’s tsunami would have evinced less interest than selling of forms for DDA’s latest project. Even every second radio ad is about these real-estate projects in NOIDA-Faridabad-Gurgaon. Try to avoid that, and there comes unwanted SMSs promoting some housing project or the other. I wonder what happened to the good old times when people used to sell toothpaste and shampoos, soaps and mosquito repellent through radio, print and mobile ads. So much so, hoardings claim that some cricketer or singer has also booked a house in the project- no one tells me why should I follow suit ? I wonder why I need property advice from MS Dhoni, Kailash Kher or Bipasha Basu. Believe it or not- I broke out of my office lunch club, largely because it was impossible for me to tolerate the real estate talk every afternoon. To top it all there is always free advice – “Double income no kids…and not yet buying a house, how can you?” “Arre…so and so, got a house in such-n-such sector- 2BHK plus study , go have a look at least.” “If for nothing else, just for investment, may be”. Uncles and aunts, friends and colleagues, bosses and neighbours – they all seem to be convinced that one must buy a house. And that is precisely the problem.

While in my generation, people start dreaming about buying a house the moment they get their appointment letter, and here I am, even after a decade , I have absolutely no interest in owning a place. No no…don’t get me wrong. I do want to live in big, beautiful houses all through my life but I see no reason why I should own one. It is difficult for me to commit myself to one house. I still love and cherish memories of all the houses I lived in…but when it comes to owning a house, I don’t see the point. It seems no one other than me subscribe to this kind of disinterest in buying of properties. …..not even my better half. For most it seems so unreal to believe that they start pitying my naiveté. All my contemporaries are either in the process of buying a house or have already bought one.(interestingly, in Delhi people do not stop after buying one house, they simply graduate to either bigger /better house or get into commercial property talk.)

 For most people, buying a house is the costliest financial bet of their life and they desperately want it to go right. The “successful” seniors brag of building one house for each child before they retire. Even the juniors declare with such pride that they asked parents of both sides to help them buying a house as wedding present . People somehow, just love the thought of – a roof of my own. Getting a house and talking about it is a passion with this city. At least for the salaried class 30 something, it is nothing less than a hobby. I know several couples who love to spend weekends scouting for a house. Romantic, some would believe. Someone even tried to portray a very emotion-tinted picture of “one mortgage –two kids” theory of modern life. For the life of me, I do not subscribe to it. While in good old world people used to brag their children’s report card, in Delhi people brag about the appreciation in housing prices of their locality. The disease is contagious and is spreading fast in all cities.  Most however, get cheated in the way and spent a considerable time justifying their decision or reversing it by finding a buyer. The real-estate enthusiasm , however, does not fade .

           Hubby informs me very authoritatively while reading the Economist, that in last 100 years property prices ( inflation adjusted ) have not actually risen at all in USA. I am not so sure about India but leave aside the price inflation ,  buying of property is hardly hassle free.It is one sector which can make even the most honest person, dishonest . But most people doesn’t mind that . I tried hard to understand the emotion/logic .

To my credit for the last few days, I really researched on the argument, but I know, when it comes to brass tacks, I am what I am- a gypsy in my mind. I read all housing project ads on my way to office (even the one which claims that the tower would be so tall that the moon will look bigger!)…..I suppressed my amusement at the “Holi Dhamaka” offers and did not frown at the lousy radio ads promising everything from swimming pool to Golf course with the flat. I came to the conclusion, which I already knew; I can’t make myself get into the let-us-buy-a-house mode.

The interesting part is that even the sensible ones fail to see the fallacy in the tall claims of these projects and go for it. Most young couples are ready to compromise comfort and luxury in their youth in order to get an assured place to live later. One of the most sensitive take on this issue was in a movie titled “Grihapravesh” . A couple saving each cent to build a house but only end up distancing themselves from living a life. Many real life couples experience that but can not resist the urge to buy a house of their own- specially when it is kind of accepted landmark event of middle class Indian life . I do not doubt the intention with which people in this city invest their time, hopes and energies in buying properties but then it escapes me by miles. I just accept the fact that happiness comes to different people in different packaging . Whether I will change my mind ever in life , whether there will be a house tempting enough that I yearn to own it ……… I just wait and watch.

Those Stranger than Fiction Moments

“Salander assessed the situation and saw that it was anything but under control. Her brain was working at high speed . Click, click, click. She still held the crowbar in her hand but she knew that it was a feeble weapon against a man who could not feel pain. She was locked inside an area of about a thousand square meters with a murderous robot from hell.”

My heart skipped multiple beats at once but then the car braked and I realized , I was in my car and , unfortunately, about to enter the office building . Life is tough if you are reading a crime thriller and happen to have never ending work at office. 24 hours seem too less for a day. For next 10 hours my eyes followed the usual office sights, my brain mechanically responded to others but my mind was with Lizbeth Salander- facing a life threat in a remote place. That brings me to the question, I intend to ask here.

Have you ever seen a murder? Or a suicide? A really bad accident, an attack or may be a narrow escape from death …an armed revolution, a terrorist attack or a  war? Come to think of it ,how often we go through such dramatic moments . Not very frequent ..isn’t it? But we love to read about them, love to watch them on TV/cinema screens .It is a sort of simulated kind of pleasure. A sensation of things going terribly bad combined with the relief that its only fiction . Probably that is why we love watching horror movies too. Of course we knew there are no evil spirits or Hannibal the Cannibal at loose, while watching the movies at night - but the sleep was disturbed anyways . Have you ever thought how you’d have reacted if such incidents actually happen to you. I was thinking about it since last few days for no particular reason .

We all have some stories that remain glued in one corner of our mind for ages. Stories that haunt us in contemplative moments, stories that come back to us unexpectedly ….stories for which we yearn for a different ending (or may be not). There is a good genre of fiction which weaves stories with completely unexpected endings. I can think of reading O’Henry and Roald Dahl. They wrote stories that make me jump with the sudden turn of events . Sometimes a subtle unveiling of facts turning the happenings upside down and at others , a tale coming to a dramatic climax just to turn back in the last sentence . I do not generally read racy thrillers or pulp fiction so I am not really use to increasing heartbeat with the turning of pages. But recently, I made an exception . I was reading millennium trilogy by Steig Larson . I would confess that I read these books mainly because I was fascinated by a very unusual heroine –Lisbeth Salander , a hacker with tattooed body and almost anti social attitude . Surprisingly, the books made me realize (once again) the need for drama in life . If not real, at least virtual.

Hitchcock once said that –“Drama is life with the dull bits cut out.” To paraphrase : Life is drama with a bad editing and unwritten climax . Of course we love it that way. Mostly, we rue the fact that the ending is not for us to decide , but we love it nonetheless. A life without a dash of conflict and colour will not be a complete one. Indians specially love the drama in life. Look at our takes on very minor issues of day to day life- drivers yelling in traffic jams, women bargaining with vegetable sellers , children throwing tantrums, colleagues gossiping with full concentration, housewives watching tearjerkers and politicians giving speeches. Its not hard to find drama in real life . But that seems to be insufficient for us. We search for heavier doses of it in fiction and gossip.

Interestingly, its often the tragic tales that stick to mind most unknowingly . I remembered a story that haunts me for years. It was a short story by Tagore where an eccentric old man wanted to hide his wealth for his long lost grandson and decided to bury a child with the money, to guard it as yaksha . He found an orphan on street and decided to sacrifice him for this work. In the end this orphan turned out to be his own grandson . I cannot imagine the plight of that old man. I can’t help thinking “what if…”. Then I thought of a Prakash Jha movie titled Parinati. Something similar to Tagore’s story – here an innkeeper and his wife were convinced by a merchant to give away their son . They did it so that the son will get education, they can’t afford , but could not help missing him badly. The merchant had promised to send the son back after he is settled in life. The couple started mugging and killing the travelers staying in the inn so that one day they can pass on wealth to their long lost son. One day a charming young man comes from the city and they kill him too. Only to realize that it was their son who wanted to surprise them. The story never died in my mind. I have no explanation why. I have not witnessed such drama in my life, neither do I really yearn for it, but I wonder how people survive such incidents. A crime committed on you may be still easy to forget than the guilt of doing something terribly wrong. Losing a loved one accidentally or by your own mistake must be horrible to live with. Yes, it is great fun to watch murders and mysteries in the movies but I am very sure it would be devastating to live through any such real life drama . One of my university professor lost his son, daughter , son in law and nephew in a car accident. It happened just a day after the daughter’s marriage when the brother was driving the newlyweds to their new home. I shudder to think of the family that lived this tragedy ever since .

It is funny that when I am trying to recall the stranger than fiction moments of life, I cannot think of anything happy. Is it because we take our blessing for granted and fail to see the magic in it ? Why is it that life’s drama is most visible in fights and deaths…in struggle and defeats and not the other way round . Many of us will remember the TV  images of twin towers burning or the attack in Mumbai but would not remember the face of an Olympic winner .  

Why should drama be always tragic- the Greeks believed in the power of tragedies in a major way. The Asian theatre traditions- be it Sanskrit plays or the Japanese Noh plays disagreed. In Indian classical plays – essentially woven in a background of love and mistaken identities, the stories always ended happily. The good triumphed over the evil . So why do our mind carries tragedies for longer than it should. Why can’t in life too we can choose the genre of the drama around us . I have no answer to that question. But if it comes to choose- I know my choice would definitely be a Rom Com for life around me .